


You Died Without Asking Me First

by mizixy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Death in Childbirth, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizixy/pseuds/mizixy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is it true?" Lydia asked with her voice grating, hoarse. Eyes wet because she already knew, she <em>screamed</em> after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Died Without Asking Me First

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for taking the time to read my first ever fanfic. Writing is hard and tags are scary, so if I made any mistakes don't hesitate to let me know.
> 
> Ugh, I knew I forgot something. 
> 
> I don't own Teen Wolf or it's characters. Title comes from the song "All Who Remain" by Beware of Darkness.

Careful and quiet Peter Hale shut his bedroom door, resting his forehead on the hard surface. He just needed a moment to breathe, to adjust to his new reality.

When Peter first came home he had been in a state of shock. He registered the increase of cars in his house but blinked at the person standing on his front porch. Lydia Martin, who maintained her image and wore it as armor, looked nothing like normal. Her hair a mess of tangles, skin wan and stretched tight. The way she trembled, due to the cold night air or from the effort of keeping a tight rein on her emotions, Peter didn’t know.

“Is it true?” She asked, with her voice grating, hoarse. Eyes wet because she already knew, she _screamed_ after all.

Tight-lipped, Peter rushed past her. He couldn’t talk to anyone, not yet. He ignored the impromptu pack pile in his living room, missing one … he grimaced. No, that cuddle – his lip curled in a sneer at the word – had more than one member absent. He had to get to his room before he broke down with an audience.

Peter finally turned away from the door. The scene he registered before him caused a smile that erased his sorrow-etched features. On the massive bed, a little girl sprawled haphazard, owning the space as she reached for her favorite toy in her sleep.

Little Cloud and Dina and Etta and Eddie; Claudette Hale had many nicknames. Her presence was a gift that Peter never felt he deserved. After a run in with a Fae clan ended with and impossible situation, Stiles Stilinski pregnant yet still male.

There. The name – no, the _person_ – Peter had avoided thinking of since leaving the hospital. Everything brought back, the crib at the foot of the bed didn’t help. The glass eyes of a wolf plush almost seemed to stare at him, accusing, from within.

He stumbled away from the door, breaths labored and heart racing. Stifled sobs escaped from gritted teeth, fangs, teeth. The need to howl his pain _so_ strong and he could see the stuttered flashes, wolf blue flaring in the room’s mirror. The urge to let his humanity fall back, to destroy and feel blood drip from his claws almost overpowered him. The steady slow beat of his daughter’s heartbeat the only thing that stood between him and the short life of a feral omega.

Peter fought for control, the scent of the room overwhelming. He wanted to open every window and air it out competing with the desire to suck all the air out of the room; to bottle it so it could never fade. Peter collapsed on his knees at the side of his bed, and he came to grips with the fact that yet again, he was alone. Stiles, loyal, loving, intelligent, idiot of a boy that he was, he figured out the spell and used it again. Things were better now, had been at least.

At the time of his first pregnancy, Stiles had been so worried. So much had happened over the years. They had fallen into bed, though neither one were exactly forthcoming with their feelings. After months of hiding behind bullshit excuses, an epic fight erupted. Finally, both Peter and Stiles, admitted to things they never would have. The screaming only stopped when Stiles grabbed him by the shirt kissing him sharp and possessive. Then his face contorted with pain, shouted “ _Shut the fuck up Peter and get the car, the baby’s ready to meet her crazy dads._ ”

Unfortunately for them all it had never been a spell but a curse. They had been lucky with Claudette. Or maybe the leader of that clan had intervened to prevent further fighting with a potential ally. Either way, Stiles Stilinski died from complications of childbirth today. Something that never should have happened, yet the damage done. Peter left responsible for a toddler as well as newborns (Jesus Christ twins) who survived. All without the one person who made him feel normal.

The babies left behind and unnamed – the list of potentials still resting on Stiles’ nightstand – but not alone. With his control on the verge of snapping, it wasn’t safe for Peter to stay with his babies. He fled from a silent heart, from a devastated Sheriff Stilinski and Scott McCall. Both men were oblivious to Peter, as they clutched each other and wailed. That he will never forget.

Claudette’s whimper broke him from his thoughts and he scooped the fox just out of reach, holding the plush toy to his face. Before he could pass the toy to Claudette, Peter is greedy for the mix of happy scents that lingered. Hidden under smudges and pressed deep into the fabric by the toddler's loving embrace. Favorite returned her nose scrunched up then relaxed as her brow lost its furrow. Then she burrowed deeper into the pillow, comforted.

Peter would own his grief, but his daughter would dream easy one last night.


End file.
